by Mia Harlan
Whenever I’ve done my chores—or enough of them not to anger Father—I like to sit up in my favorite tree next to the campus. It’s far enough that the students gracing LUV Academy’s paths can’t hear me and I work on my songs as they go about their day.
The gate feels cold against my fingertips. When I pull it open, it squeaks loudly, echoing through the silent night.
I enter the forest and it only takes a few steps to realize that a nighttime hike is completely different from a daytime one. It’s too dark to see the rocks and branches on the uneven path and my sweater keeps catching on brambles and twigs.
Even though this morning had been sweltering hot, it rained all afternoon, making the temperatures plummet. The biting wind stings my bare skin. I shiver as it grazes my fingers and nips at the tips of my ears. It rides up through the holes in my jeans and swirls around my face, sending my hair flying.
I shiver again, but this time it’s not entirely from the cold. The forest is kind of creepy at night. I really should have planned this better, found a friend to stay with and saved up for the bus. I should have packed a bag, too, even if it was just my old laptop, phone, and a change of clothes. I just hope my shoes don’t get soaked; I hate the feeling of wet socks.
The wind picks up, caressing the spot where Mom’s pendant used to sit. I touch the bare skin below my collar bone and fight back tears. I wish she was here.
Splash. My foot lands in a big puddle and my lower lip trembles.
I try not to think of it as some kind of sign. I keep walking down the muddy forest path, but my wet shoe is a constant reminder, squishing and squelching with each step.
Focus, Roonie. I need to come up with some sort of plan.
I can’t live in my favorite tree, singing about fairy-tales while I wait for one of my imaginary princes to rescue me. It’s too cold out and I ate so little of my dinner that I’m getting lightheaded. I need food and a warm place to stay. I had both living with Father. Maybe I should turn around, go home, and beg for his forgiveness. Tell him I screwed up—I mean, really screwed up—and that he was right…about everything.
I didn’t get into college because I’m not smart enough, or special enough, or talented enough. I sent in a portfolio of songs to every art college I could find—including the one I’m heading toward now—and all I got were rejection letters. It didn’t help that I’ve always been terrible at tests. My grades were barely above average, and I didn’t do well on the SATs.
And I’m terrible at interviews. I never heard back from the office jobs, or fast food chains, or even the job at the local bar. Father’s right. Why would anyone hire me when I can’t even take care of a few simple chores?
Splash. My other shoe gets soaked. Something inside me snaps and I shout into the night, “Who put all these stupid puddles in this stupid forest?”
I glare up at the vast sky. The stars look cold and stern, infinite and uncaring. What if Mom’s up there, watching me? Is she disappointed? Does she think I’m a failure, just like Father does?
Tears cloud my vision and the ground suddenly gives way beneath my feet. I don’t even have time to scream.
Panic floods my veins and my heart slams into my throat at the sheer drop. It’s the same rush of fear I always get an instant before Father’s fist makes contact, only this time the moment’s over almost as soon as it’s begun.
My back, already sore from its earlier collision with the fridge, hits the sticky, wet mud with a thud. My head follows, the impact rattling the insides of my brain. It hurts—a lot—but at least I didn’t hit my head on a rock or a boulder. I should be grateful for the cold, wet mud.
I start to thank the stars above for watching over me when I realize I’m lying on an incline. I scream as I start to slip and slide downward, picking up speed with each passing second. I try to gain purchase, pushing the heels of my sneakered feet into the mud. My hands fly out in search of something to grab onto, anything to stop my fall. Only there’s nothing there—nothing but cold, slick mud. I keep going, faster and faster. Then, just before I reach the bottom, the cruel forest tosses me down toward my doom.
Chapter 3
I fly forward and slam onto my hands and knees. The impact jars my injured ribs and I cry out in pain. Then, my arms give out and I land face-first in the mud. As if my day couldn’t get any worse.
I lie there for what seems like ages. I manage to turn my head and catch my breath but can’t summon the energy to move. Maybe I pass out, maybe not. There’s no way to tell. Time stands still as seconds pass, or minutes, or even hours. For all I know, I’ve been unconscious for days.
“Are you alright?” a guy shouts from the distance, startling me. His voice is strong, yet sweet; piercing yet smooth. It envelops me the way a song does, and I play his words in my head, over and over again. I wish I had a recording, so I could add it to my playlist.
His footsteps squish and squelch toward me and I long to see his face. With a soft groan, I manage to sit up, and when I spot him, I gasp.
He cuts a tall, lean figure in his tight trousers and loose tunic. He’s holding something in his hand, too: a glass slipper. I must be hallucinating, or maybe I’m dreaming. It would explain why he’s the spitting image of Prince Charming.
The light of the moon caresses his soft, blond hair and casts his strong, sculpted cheekbones in shadow. I try to make out the exact shade of his eyes. Are they a soulful blue? Or an enchanting forest green?
If that’s my line of thinking, I really must have hit my head, hard.
He’ll probably break into song next. Not that I've written a “rescuing the princess from the forest floor” song just yet. It would have to be slow—soft and melodic—so his voice could weave in and out of each verse. I picture him singing, the chorus deep and hypnotic, and suddenly feel lightheaded.
“What happened?” Prince Charming asks, moving closer. To my surprise, his tunic turns out to be a gray hoodie, his trousers jogging pants, and his dress shoes sneakers. Also, the shoe in his hand isn’t actually made of glass. It’s a sneaker.
My gaze drops down to my feet. Right sneaker, check. Left sneaker, unaccounted for. Which means that he’s just a regular guy who happened to pass by and recover my shoe. Probably a student from the LUV Academy campus.
He crosses the rest of the distance between us and bends at the waist. For a second, I think he’s about to execute a courtly bow, but he does me one better. He kneels next to me, holds out my sneaker, and gently lifts my ankle. “Here, let me help you.”
I blush as his fingers graze bare skin just below the hem of my jeans. Then, he slips on my shoe. It fits. Perfectly.
It’s your sneaker, Roonie, I chide myself. Of course it fits perfectly!
Prince Charming finishes tying my shoelaces and then gets back to his feet. My heart sinks.
I wait for him to leave—my momentary escape into fantasyland over almost as soon as it began—but he doesn’t budge. Instead, he extends a hand toward me, palm up. “Let me help.”
I start to put my hand in his. It’s covered in mud—my small hand, not his large, clean one—and I quickly pull back. My cheeks flush. I must look like such a mess.
Charming takes my hand anyway. His strong fingers wrap around mine. There’s a spark when we make contact, and my pulse starts to race. His skin is soft and warm, just like I’d expect from a fairy tale prince. His grip is strong, and he pulls me to my feet almost effortlessly.
I stumble, still dizzy, and crash into his hard chest. I become aware of his muscular form through his gray fleece hoodie and my breath hitches. He’s at least a head taller than me, and I look up, mesmerized. Then, I begin to feel lightheaded again. I wonder if it’s from the fall.
My gut tells me it’s him.
“I’ve got you.” Charming peers down at me with concern. He looks into my eyes, searching them for what seems like an eternity, and my heart rate spikes.
Logically, I know there’s no way he’s as attracted to me as I am to him
. I may be gazing up at a Prince Charming incarnate, but there is no way he’s seeing Cinderella. I’m a mess, just like Father says. I’m wearing old clothes, I never took the time to brush my hair, and it probably doesn’t matter since I’m covered from head to toe in mud. If anything, Charming must see me as a wicked witch and is wondering how to get rid of me.
Here I am, mentally composing a song about our first kiss, and he’s probably trying to think up a banishment spell.
Wicked witch, wicked witch
Sick and gnarled and gray
Fly from here, die from here
Get thee far away
“Cool tune,” Charming comments. “Don’t think I’ve ever heard it before.”
It takes me a second to realize I’ve been singing. Out loud. Again.
It’s bad enough that I’m a complete mess, but the moment he realizes the humming and singing thing is permanent, he’ll run the other way. My cheeks flush and I blurt out the first thing I can think of to distract him. “I’m cold.”
As soon as the words leave my mouth, I realize I’m trembling. Charming’s body may be radiating heat, but my feet are soaked and I’m covered in cold, wet mud.
“Here,” he says, stripping out of his gray hoodie. He’s got a tight v-neck athletic shirt underneath, and it rides up briefly to reveal a hint of hard abs. My gaze stays glued to the strip of bare skin until it disappears from sight. Then, I watch his arm muscles ripple as he pulls off each sleeve.
When he hands me his hoodie, I hesitate. I don’t want to get mud on it. I start to pull back, but Charming doesn’t seem to care. He gently slides the fabric over my head and helps me get my hands into the sleeves. His warm palms slide up my arms and then down to my waist as he straightens the garment. I inhale sharply.
“Sorry,” he whispers, his gaze glued to my face. “Did I hurt you?”
“N-no.” I blush. His hoodie smells like mint and musk. Being engulfed in it makes me tremble and I snuggle in further and bask in his manly scent.
“You’re still cold.” He rubs my arms gently. “Let’s get you somewhere warm?”
I nod and let out a yelp when he scoops me up into his arms. He starts off into the trees, and I feel a sudden wave of unease. “Where are you taking me?”
“Back to campus.” He adjusts his grip. One strong hand rests at my waist, holding me close, while the other warms the back of my knees.
With each step he takes, the warmth from his body seeps through my clothes and burns into my flesh. It would be perfect if it weren’t for the pain. My head is pounding from the fall and my upper back throbs, reminding me of Father’s angry shouts just before each strike.
I whimper. Charming pulls me closer and his comforting touch instantly makes me feel better. “What’s your name?” he asks softly.
“Roonie,” I whisper.
I know I’m getting mud all over him, but I can’t help snuggling into his arms. Just like that, all my worries disappear.
This is exactly what I’ve been dreaming of—and singing of—for years. A handsome prince has finally come to my rescue, and he’s carrying me away. His touch makes me shiver and the pressure of his arms around me increases, reassuring me.
I hope that this moment will never end, but my wet socks and chilled limbs remind me that it will.
Then another thought crosses my mind. Am I crazy to let a complete stranger carry me off into the woods? He may look and act like Prince Charming, but I know how quickly a king can turn into an ogre.
“You should put me down,” I tell Charming.
“Not yet. We’re almost there.”
I glance in the direction we’re heading, but all I see are trees. Trees, trees, trees—and the moon, illuminating more trees.
Chapter 4
The walk through the forest ends up being achingly brief and breathtakingly endless. I should insist that Prince Charming set me down, and not just because I’m getting mud all over him. There’s still a chance he might not be the nice guy he seems to be.
I know that’s what I should do, but I can’t bring myself to say the words.
The chill seeps out of my bones, and I’m suddenly warm all over. My every breath is filled with the minty musk that’s uniquely him. I truly feel like I’m in a fairy tale. The only thing missing is music.
“What band is that?” Charming asks as he carries me up to the LUV Academy gate.
“Huh?” I say absently, my attention focused on the massive campus. I usually approach it from the back, taking the curving lane that leads to my favorite tree. I’ve never even seen the parking lot spread out before us, or the large buildings flanking it on three sides.
“That tune. I’ve never heard it before.” Charming recaptures my attention.
“Oh, um…it’s just…stuff?” I flush with embarrassment. How could I start humming like that? And here, of all places? This is the closest I’ve ever gotten to living out my fairy tale dream, and I’m about to ruin it.
“Stuff?” Charming chuckles at my non explanation and I quickly look away.
“I think I heard it on TV.” I hold my breath, but he doesn’t call me out on my lie. He just pulls the gate open and proceeds to carry me past dozens of parked cars.
The lot exits out onto a short walkway nestled between two buildings. It’s quiet, but well-lit, and when we turn a corner, the familiar clock tower comes into view. I tilt my head back, taking it in from up close for the first time. The minute hand doesn’t move, and for a split second, I hope time might stand still.
This is real life, Roonie, I remind myself. In real life, time doesn’t stop and guys like Charming don’t fall for girls like me.
State-of-the-art, modern buildings arch over our heads as he carries me across campus. I’m drawn in by the brightly lit buildings. It’s like we’re passing through an outdoor stage. Spotlights beam up at every wall, illuminating them like they’re stars performing in a fairy musical.
To my right, a low wall marks the edge of a garden that leads to a series of cozy-looking shops. When I was little, Mom loved taking me to different stores. She’d pick a nearby town, and the two of us would drive down and explore. We’d stroll along small streets, singing about princes and dragons while pretending we lived there. Looking around now, those feelings from long ago return. I want to stay right here and never leave.
Charming turns a corner and the stores disappear from view. I turn my head to keep the shops in sight. I want to hold on to the magical moment, but a wave of pain forces me to turn back. Charming continues along the path and heads toward one of the brightly lit buildings. Despite the late hour, when we step up to the front doors, they slide open to let us in.
Charming carries me over the threshold. If I wasn’t already in his arms, I think I might swoon. He walks into the lobby and heads toward the front desk. I take in the glistening marble floors and fancy leather couches. Did Charming bring me to some fancy hotel?
I feel a momentary flood of panic until the familiar smell of disinfectant assaults my nostrils. Despite how this place might look, I’ve spent enough time at the hospital to recognize one on smell alone. I look up and the sign above the front desk confirms it. We’re at the ‘Campus Health Center.’
The gray-haired receptionist—possibly a nurse—looks up from her computer as we approach. She’s wearing light blue scrubs and her name tag reads ‘Faye.’ I wonder if she’ll wave a magic wand and heal my aches and pains—or better yet, give me a fancy dress and glass slippers. I snuggle into Charming’s warmth and a contented sigh slips past my lips.
Faye purses her lips in response. She gives me a critical once-over and my cheeks blaze at the obvious judgment there. She takes in my sodden appearance in a way that makes me want to disappear. I wait for a barrage of criticism, but it never comes. Instead, Faye waves us in. “I’ll send for the doctor right away.”
“Thank you.” Charming gives her a winning smile. In the bright light, without the night casting him in shadow, he looks even more perfect
. His eyes aren’t blue or green like I’d originally thought, but the lightest of browns, like a mix of chocolate and molten honey. I realize I’m staring and quickly look away, but not before I notice how achingly handsome he is—this stranger who found me in the forest and whisked me away.
“You just wait here,” he says. In the time that I’ve been ogling him, he’s carried me across the room, and is about to set me down on one of the expensive-looking leather couches.
“Don’t,” I cry. “I’m covered in mud.”
“It’s fine.” Charming ignores my protests and gently lowers me onto the soft surface. Then, he takes a step back and stares at me, his eyes roaming over my mud-caked body. My face suddenly grows hot and I quickly look away. Then, I feel his warm touch on my cheek. My eyes snap back up, and Charming leans closer and whispers, “You have some mud. Right here.”
“I…I…” I stutter as he wipes it away. Then I blurt out, “I’m Roonie.”
“You told me.” He chuckles. “But I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Tate. Tate Green.”
A part of me is disappointed he doesn’t say ‘Charming. Prince Charming.” I blush, and he offers me his hand. The first time he did that, back in the forest, it was so he could rescue me. Now, he squeezes it, his grip warm and strong and perfect. “Wait here, okay Roonie?”
My heart leaps at the sound of my name on his lips. “Okay,” I whisper, the tremble in my voice unmistakable. Tate smiles warmly and heads back to Faye’s desk. Thanks to me, his light blue t-shirt is covered in wet mud, and the thin cotton clings to his tanned skin. My eyes linger on his broad shoulders, then drift down to take in the rest of him. His jogging pants hug his backside and outline toned, muscular legs.
I jerk my gaze away and try to listen in on Tate’s conversation with Faye. He says something I can’t make out and she responds, her voice too soft for me to overhear. Then, she heads into a back room while Tate leans casually against her desk and turns to watch me.