Rebel Princess

by Lynn Stevens

  “I can’t knit,” she wailed. Her hands shot to her face, and her sobs echoed off the thin walls of our living area.

  I patted her hand. “It’ll be okay. You crochet like a madwoman. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

  “I’ve been doing this for an hour, and I can’t even get one stitch right,” she said, hiccupping on every other word. “I’m a failure.”

  “You’re not a failure.” An hour? I moved a swatch of emerald green satin off the couch and sat beside her. “You’re amazing. You taught yourself how to sew, crochet, cook, and just about everything. Give this time, and you’ll be amazing at it.”

  “You think?” she asked, dropping her hands and lifting her gaze to mine.

  It’s only been an hour. I nodded, putting a confident smile on my face. “Of course. You’ll master it.”

  She glanced at the needles then back at me. “You’re right. I’m overreacting. It’s only been an hour.” Delilah gave herself an eye roll. “I’m just PMSing on top of everything else. This gown competition is getting to me.”

  And there was my story for the ball. Why hadn’t I thought of it before? “This is the first year, right? And the Dean’s wife gets to wear the winning design?”

  She nodded and wiped the spare tears from under her eyes. “The finalists will be displayed in one of the side rooms. I’m almost done with it, but I don’t think I’ll win. Everyone else is going for something nouveau. And they’re really great from the little I’ve seen.”

  “Why don’t you think you’ll win?” I asked. Delilah was an amazing designer, but there were a lot of others in her major, who were almost as good.

  “Mine’s more conservative, more traditional. Mrs. Hanover’s not the one judging though. She’d go for my design, I think. The others are really for people our age.” Delilah’s shoulders dropped. “I guess I can only hope.”

  “I have no doubt Mrs. Hanover would pick yours, but you can’t win them all, D.” I pointed to my head. “I didn’t even get to audition this year. At least you’re getting to compete.”

  Delilah pursed her lips.

  “Besides, you’re the best, and you know it.” I hugged her shoulders.

  “That’s true.” She giggled and hugged me back. “Thanks, Emmy.”

  “That’s what besties are for,” I said, letting go of her shoulders and sitting back. “Now, I need a favor. Well, two actually.”

  “Shoot,” she said, picking up her knitting needles and looking at them from every angle. She kicked out her leg, sending a stack of fabric onto the floor.

  “Okay, make that three.”

  Delilah glanced at me then shook her head. “Now you’re pushing it.”

  “First, do you think some of your competition would like to be interviewed for the paper? Max wants me to do a feature on the ball, and I want to hang myself, but I’ll do it. This would be a new angle.”

  Delilah snorted. “Of course. We’re all attention whores. Why do you think our Instagram followers are so high?”

  “True, but I don’t think whores is politically correct.”

  “I’m not in the mood for politics right now. I’ll apologize to your sensitive side later.” She picked up her red yarn and squeezed it. “Next.”

  “Help me pick out something to go hiking in tomorrow.” I cringed, because I knew how much Delilah liked nature. As in not at all. Unless it was the beach, even then she hated sand.

  “God, why?” She wrinkled her nose. “You could get bit by a spider or something.”

  “I could get bit by a spider here. Besides, I’m not going alone,” I teased.

  “As in a date?” I nodded, and Delilah squealed. She jumped off the couch and raised her hands in praise. “Thank you, Baby Jesus. It’s about time you moved on from that asshole Colin.”

  Needless to say, Delilah wasn’t a fan.

  “Okay, well, you have to wear your best sneakers, but you need to take some cute flipflops to change into after the hiking part. Show off your pedi,” she said as she rushed into my room. She peeked back out. “I got this; don’t worry.” Then she disappeared. A moment later, she peeked out again. “What was the third thing?”

  I pointed to the mess in the common area.

  “He’s picking you up here?”

  I nodded again. If I spoke, I might lose control and start dancing with her. Her excitement was contagious, and I was already looking forward to my date.

  “Can I be here?”

  “Duh,” I said softly.

  She squealed again and started jumping. I joined in, and we jumped around the room until I tripped over a stack of fabric on the floor.

  “Yeah, okay, it will be perfect in here tomorrow.” She squealed and ran back into my room, rambling about my options.

  My grin covered my face as I picked up her samples and yarn. A little bird fluttered in my stomach. I prayed tomorrow went as well as I hoped.

  Chapter Five

  I woke up early and headed toward the studio. Even though I wasn’t officially cleared to dance until Monday, I needed to get some time alone with the bar. It felt like more than a week since I even stretched. I unlocked the door with the keypad, grateful Madame Guthrie hadn’t changed it out of spite.

  My thighs burned as I bent into a forward bend. I pressed harder, putting my forehead on my knees. The stretch deepened. It was glorious. I spent twenty minutes stretching, going through each one three times until the kinks worked out. Slowly, I went through each position until I felt comfortable that my head wasn’t going to kill me. I hadn’t felt any throbbing for at least twenty-four hours. Lifting to point was fine, as was lowering. Then I pirouetted.

  I stopped, but my head kept spinning as a rush of dizziness overcame me. My knees buckled as I pressed my hand to my head. The spinning lasted maybe ten seconds and left me breathless. I stared at myself in the mirror. The face staring back didn’t look happy. Hadn’t in a long time really. I glanced away, unable to look at her anymore.

  Frustrated with my inability to do a simple pirouette, I slipped on a T-shirt and shorts and left the studio.

  The walk back to my dorm was quiet. Most of the campus was still asleep from whatever party they went to the night before. A few early risers hurried around with their books clutched to their chests.

  Must have papers due soon.

  Lord knew I was in the same boat. Realistically, I was running behind on everything. The concussion may have sidelined my dancing, but it also sidelined everything else for the first few days.

  Then there was the cheating scandal. It hadn’t strayed far from my mind, but I wasn’t sure what direction I needed to go to get the proof I needed. The website they used had been taken down in July, just as I was getting somewhere with a contact. Of course, the contact’s email bounced back. He hadn’t given me anything he promised. Or maybe it was a she. You never knew with the internet.

  I was halfway across campus when his voice gave me chills.

  “Em, can we talk?” Colin said softly.

  I stopped, but I didn’t move. What would he do this time? Chop me up and feed me the gators?

  “I’m sorry,” he said, his breath hot on my neck.

  I spun around and took three steps back. “Sorry for what? Cheating by buying your papers online? Lying to the police that you were with your team last week? Having your friends lie for you? Oh, wait, maybe you’re sorry you gave me a concussion. Is that it?”

  He dropped his gaze for a moment, and his piercing blue eyes bore into mine. “I’m glad you gave up on the story. You were going to ruin a lot of people, not just me.”

  I opened my mouth to tell him it wasn’t my idea, and I wasn’t done yet, but I snapped it shut. Colin didn’t need to know that. He did need to know one very important thing. “I wouldn’t have ruined any lives. The people who cheated ruined themselves. Exposing them, exposing you, would benefit the people on this campus who have been denied scholarships, who have worked their asses off for their grades. You’re not special, C
olin. You shouldn’t get away with this.”

  Colin shook his head and started to walk backward from me with his hands up. “You don’t get it, Em. You never did.”

  “Which is why you cheated on me?”

  “That was a mistake. I was drunk, and you knew that. I treated you like my queen. You never balked at the expensive dinners or when I took you to the boring-ass theater.” He shook his head “I knew this was about revenge,” he said loudly as he continued to walk away.

  “Keep telling yourself that, Colin. I’m sure it helps you sleep at night.”

  I stood where I was, waiting for him to get out of my sight before I turned my back to him. He never treated me like a queen. I was nothing more than a trophy for his mantel. He was barely a blip across campus when he entered LeHigh and disappeared inside. Still, I waited another five minutes before I finished my trek to the dorm. When I finally got there, it was almost eight.

  Delilah strolled out of my room with a blow dryer in one hand and a flatiron in the other. “Get in the shower, girl. We got work to do.”

  I cracked a grin and hurried past her. Delilah was on a mission. I just hoped she didn’t make me look like someone I wasn’t.

  A knock sounded on the door just as Delilah finished her work. She wouldn’t let me look either. That was the only thing she said the entire time she was fluffing, powdering, drawing, and spraying me.

  “Finished,” she said as the knock sounded again. Delilah held up her finger and backed out of the room. “You have to make an entrance. Wait here.”

  I rolled my eyes at her dramatic requirement, but I also did as I was told. After all, I had no idea how much makeup she had covered me in. When I went on stage, my face was heavily painted by one of the other dancers. That was different. I preferred to keep it simple, just mascara and concealer when required.

  Bracing myself for Delilah’s artistic overkill, I spun around in my chair toward the mirror. And I looked like me. The makeup was natural. My eyes popped more, and it looked like I had high cheekbones, but other than that, it was bare. My wavy hair was tamed into stylish waves. How she made something already wavy actually look like hair you’d see in the pages of a magazine was beyond my skill or comprehension.

  Delilah was amazing.

  I bounced from my chair and headed into the living area. Quinn smiled from his spot on the arm of the chair. Shyness bloomed in my chest, and I felt the heat rising on my cheeks. He looked good. Correction, he looked great. A flush of rosy pink bloomed on his skin. I swear Delilah turned up the heat because the entire room was hot. Except we don’t have heaters in Florida.

  He stood and shoved his hands into his pockets. His khaki shorts hung to his knees, and his thin army green t-shirt clung to his chest. Dog tags hung around his neck.

  “Those yours?” I asked, pointing to the tags.

  He reached up and clutched them in his palm. “No.” He cleared his throat. “Ready?”

  I wanted to ask more questions about the dog tags. By the pained look that crossed over his face, he didn’t want to talk about it. I led the way out of the dorm and wondered if they had something to do with the scars covering his face. Once we were out in the warm Florida sun, Quinn took the lead. We walked around the dorm to the parking lot. I breathed in the faint salty air. Quinn stopped beside the passenger side of a classic Jeep Wrangler.

  “This is yours?” I asked, pretty sure my mouth had dropped open at the sight of the supped-up white Jeep. The doors were off, revealing the smooth tan leather interior.

  “Yep. I restored it with the help of a few other vets,” he said as he offered his hand to help me in.

  I took it gratefully and put my foot on the running board. His hand was warm, and a tingle shot up my arm. He held onto mine a little bit longer than necessary as I settled into my seat. Not that I minded. I liked how his skin felt against mine.

  “Let me help you with that.” He stood on the running board, reaching across me for a seat belt.

  “Wait, what?” I shook my head a little confused by both his proximity and the racing-style seatbelt he was buckling over me. The combination of warm leather and his distinctive male scent was enough to make me swoon. That kind of stuff only happened in romance novels, or so I thought.

  Quinn smiled. “I like to go off-roading sometimes. The harness is safer.”

  “You could always put the doors back on,” I deadpanned as he tugged on the harness. His fingers brushed against my ribs. Without thinking, I reached up and put my hand over his. I just wanted to touch him somehow. He let go of the harness and turned his hand over, interlacing our fingers for a moment. I swallowed hard and squeezed. “Don’t worry,” he said, “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  You already have. That thought sent my mind whirling out of control. I reached up with my other hand and touched his cheek. “I trust you.”

  Quinn leaned against my palm for a second before letting go of my hand and stepping down. He walked around the front of the Jeep and climbed up. I watched the way he moved with a leopard’s grace. His muscles flexed with each step, always ready for action. It sent a shiver down my spine. After strapping himself in and starting the engine, he faced me, his eyebrows furrowed with concern or confusion. Maybe it was both.

  “Do you? Trust me, that is?” he asked softly. I barely heard him over the roar of the engine and the blood rushing through my body.

  I leaned over as far as the harness would allow and put my hand over his on the gearshift. “Yes.”

  A slow smile spread across his lips. “Okay, then. Let’s have some fun.” I started to move my hand, but he stopped me. “Leave it there.”

  Together we shifted into reverse then into first and so on as the wind rushed through my hair. The drive was exhilarating. We sped down the highway, country music blaring on the radio. I never felt more alive. I never felt freer.

  After twenty minutes, Quinn took an exit then slowed as he navigated the side roads. Slowly the houses gave way to a park. At the entrance was a sign announcing “Great Ways Roading: Drive with caution” in white letters over a brown background.

  Quinn pulled into a parking lot beside a small wooden building with two vending machines on the porch and a row of lockers along the side. He cut the engine and grinned.

  “Come on,” he said, reaching over and unbuckling my harness. “We have to register first and stow away anything loose in the lockers.”

  “I take it we’re not hiking?” I glanced down at the cute denim shorts and form-fitting blue tank Delilah had chosen. We’d even ran out to a store for real hiking boots. I had on cute off-white socks scrunched down around the tops too. Overall, it was effectively fashionable while looking functional.

  “We’re hiking.” He jumped out of the Jeep and hurried around to help me down. It was totally unnecessary, but I didn’t mind his hands in mine again, even if only for a few seconds. “Then, if you want to go mudding, we’ll go.” He glanced at my clothes. “If you don’t mind getting a little dirty.”

  I raised my eyebrows.

  Quinn laughed. “Come on, duchess. Let’s go for a hike.”

  He reached into the back of the Jeep and pulled out a large backpack and a smaller one that he handed to me.

  “What’s this?” I asked as I tugged it over my shoulders and secured the waist clip. It was light, less than four pounds. “And what’s in it?”

  “It’s a lumbar pack. Not as much room as a regular backpack, but great for a quick day hike. You can wear it like a fanny pack, or you can wear it on your upper back like you’re doing now.” Quinn adjusted the straps, and the pack lifted on my back.

  My breath hitched, but he didn’t notice. Or if he did, he just kept talking like nothing happened. “It’s got some protein bars, a map and compass, first aid kit, and iodine tablets for water, plus a tarp. Oh, and two water bottles filled with fresh water.” He pulled on a strap then stepped back. His gaze trailed over my body, and he smiled. “Perfect.”

  I decided
to torture him the same way. Stepping close enough that we could share a breath, I tugged on one of his straps. “Perfect,” I said softly.

  His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Ready?”

  I nodded, not willing to be the one who broke contact. Quinn stared into my eyes for several seconds. His hand covered mine, where I still held his strap and pulled it away. At first, I was disappointed, but he kept our hands together and intertwined our fingers again.

  “Let’s go check in,” he said, turning toward the small wooden building.

  Quinn led me through an unfinished wooden door into a dark room. It took my eyes a moment to adjust to the fluorescent lighting against unfinished wooden walls. There were large storage lockers along the walls, but directly in front of us was a burly man behind a counter. His beard twitched as we approached.

  “Good to see ya, Quinn,” he said as he shook Quinn’s free hand. His sharp blue gaze cut toward me. “Who’s your friend?”

  “Jack, this is Em.” Quinn squeezed my hand, tugging me closer against him. “We’re going to hike up to the trees. Anybody out?”

  “Got a few ATVs out there now.” Jack’s gaze drifted toward my chest, and I instantly regretted my wardrobe choice. “Lionel’s got a few buddies gearing up to head in about twenty minutes or so. After we drop some water down, that is. You should be in a good position by then.”

  “Over here,” Quinn said sharply. Jack’s gaze turned back toward him, and he wrinkled his nose. Quinn’s hand tightened around mine to the point it almost hurt. With my free hand, I trailed my fingers along his forearm. Quinn relaxed his grip, but he held Jack’s stare. “We might go out after Lionel’s crew is done.”

  Jack nodded. “Yeah, they’re a bit rough for a first-timer.” He started to shift his gaze toward me, but Quinn snapped his fingers. “You need anything else?”

  “Locker,” Quinn said.

  I felt like a bit of a fool as they kept talking around me. The testosterone in the room was so thick I could’ve probably danced across it. Yet it was also fascinating in a way. No guy had ever gone super macho over me before. It was flattering in a weird way. I certainly didn’t enjoy Jack’s leering gaze on my breasts.