Glass Castle Prince

by Nicole Williams

  I’d taken the afternoon to head into the closest town to stock up on groceries, and Anne had driven nearly two hours from university to catch up with me. I wasn’t sure I’d ever needed the counsel of a best friend more.

  “For the hundredth time, I won’t say a word to anyone about anything.” Anne’s eyes narrowed at the mustard I was shaking at her. “Since when do you like the least redeemable condiment in the history of packaged food?”

  “I don’t.” I set the bottle in the cart and kept rolling down the aisle. “Edward does.”

  “What? He expects you to do his grocery shopping and keep his secrets now?” Anne’s heels clacked after me as I sped up. “I know you’re not telling me everything. I got this same itchy feeling when you weren’t telling me about Martin Keller asking Betsy Johansson instead of me to spring formal.”

  I glanced at my list after rolling my eyes. With four twenty-something guys rummaging through the same cupboards, I was going to stock up on a caravan of food.

  “For the thousandth time,” I fired back at her while adding a jar of pickles to the cart, “I didn’t tell you about that because I knew it would crush you. Just like it did when you found out.”

  “So what? You’re worried whatever you’re not telling me about Prince Mustard is going to crush me all over again?”

  I sighed and trucked over to the chip aisle. I swore James and Andrew’s diet was eighty percent chips and pretzels. The other twenty percent being booze. I knew it was fruitless to keep a secret from her; Anne would figure it out. Plus, I needed to talk it out with a trusted friend.

  “You know about Theo,” I said, narrowly avoiding a head-on collision with the cart of a mom with twins hanging off her legs, screaming.

  “Theo,” Anne sighed dreamily. “Now there’s a guy who is not a mustard man.”

  “You don’t even know him.”

  “I know what you told me about him. And that’s enough to enhance my dreams for the next month.”

  I tossed whatever variety of chip came in a family-sized bag into the cart. “And I told you about how I went totally polar when he kissed me that night.”

  “Very uncharacteristic of my girl, who’s the embodiment of self-assured.” Anne blinked at my cart, which was already full without having visiting two-thirds of the aisles yet.

  Self-assured. That was not a trait I would use to describe myself lately.

  Anne cut in front of me, grabbing my wrist when I went to reach for the party-size canister of pretzels. “What does you going polar with Theo have to do with Colonel Mustard?”

  The corners of my eyes creased. “I might have asked Edward if he’d help me work out the kissing issue by being a sort of guinea pig?”

  Anne’s mouth dropped, her hands whipping out to grab my arms. “Holy shitballs! You’re swapping DNA with the Prince of Norland?”

  “Anne!” I snapped, checking up and down the aisle to make sure no one had heard. All clear. “I don’t think the produce section heard you. Mind shouting it a little louder?”

  I should have known better.

  Anne threw back her head and opened her mouth. “My best friend, Charlotte Everly, is swapping—“

  I clapped my hand over her mouth. “Shh! Enough. I can’t take you anywhere. And it’s swapping saliva. Swapping DNA just sounds lewd.”

  “Saliva is a form of DNA . . . as are a few other bodily fluids.” Her expression ironed out. “God, wait. You’re not exchanging any other types of DNA are you?”

  I marched down the aisle before she could see my blush. “I’m not giving recognition to that question by answering it.”

  “So you are . . . ?” Anne made a gesture with her hands that filled in the rest.

  I lowered her hands as an elderly woman rounded onto our aisle. “No!”

  “So you’re not?” She actually frowned.

  “He’s the future king. I’m a girl whose dad used to tend the royal family’s summer house grounds.” My fingers rolled across the shopping cart handle. “What do you think?”

  “I think that’s the premise of every one of my favorite fairy tales I grew up reading to myself.”

  “Exactly. Fairy tale.” I yanked one last bag of chips from the rack before heading to the next aisle. “Therefore, not real.”

  Anne wove her arm around mine, heaving a sigh. “But it’s nice to think about, right?”

  My lips warmed, the feel of his mouth against mine feeling so real, my heart started to rush. “It is.”

  I cleared my head and got back to the list. Fairy tales and fantasies weren’t going to stock the pantry.

  Anne leaned in to whisper, “So how does he kiss?”

  Tingles scattered down my spine. “You know when you see some guy just embrace a girl, kissing her like ‘I’m your man and you’re my woman and the whole world’s going to know it’?”

  “Oh, yeah. That kiss.” Her head leaned into my shoulder. “The one I’ve never experienced anything close to.”

  “Me either,” I admitted, absently reaching for a bag of pistachios. “Until Edward.”

  Anne huffed. “He’s the prince. There’s probably some finishing school for kissing too. Hey, do you think he’s as good at—”

  “Could you grab that jar of tomato sauce for me?” I pointed at one of the jars on the top shelf I couldn’t reach, but my tall, model-esque friend could, while barefoot, without a problem.

  She grabbed the jar, holding it out for me with a look on her face that told me she saw through everything. “Yeah, me too.”

  He’d been avoiding me. All week. I wasn’t naïve enough to placate myself with the excuse that he was busy or it was purely coincidental. Edward was dodging me because of our kiss.

  Either because I was a total snooze in the lip-locking category or he realized what a ludicrous request I’d made of him and was calling it off. I wouldn’t blame him for either, but I wasn’t going to accept his withdrawal without a confirmation.

  After dinner, I finished making the weekly rounds watering plants and came to the sudden decision that this was the right moment to confront him. Wherever he was in this endless web of rooms. After placing the watering can back into the storage closet, I headed to the most obvious option of where he could be stowed away—in the billiard room with his friends.

  I rapped on the door before entering, a haze of cigar smoke and bad nineties metal assaulting me when I stepped inside. James, Andrew, and Frederick were staggered around the pool table, looking as though they were reinventing the game of pool. None of them seemed surprised by my sudden arrival.

  I sighed when I stepped on an empty bag of chips. They were a fun-loving bunch who treated me as one of their own, but I’d never before met a group of guys who truly seemed to behave as though they’d found their way to Neverland.

  “Have you guys seen Edward?” I greeted, dodging the next empty chip bag, though this one only looked half empty.

  “Check the library. He’s probably holed himself up in there again,” Andrew answered.

  “The books can deal with his moodiness. I’m sick of it,” Frederick muttered, holding an extra pool stick in my direction.

  I shook my head and started to back through the door. “Maybe next time,” I said, my finger twirling around the room. “And get this mess cleaned up.”

  James flashed a salute, moving his beer from the ledge of the pool table to the bar counter.

  “I mean it. I’m not cleaning up for you three.”

  “Yes, Mom.” Frederick made a face but set aside his pool stick and collected the empty bags and bottles from the floor. He gestured at the other two to pitch in.

  Sighing, I closed the door. In a matter of weeks, three grown men had learned how to clean up after themselves—a skill that should have been taught at the toddler stage. Their future wives could thank me later.

  Heading toward the library, I paused in front of one of the many mirrors hanging from the hall walls. I took a minute to smooth out my hair and skirt, popping one
of the mints I now kept on me at all times in my mouth. Just in case.

  The library doors were ajar, a warm glow of light streaming beneath them. Slipping inside, I found Edward sitting at one of the long wooden tables, leaning over a book, a stack of others resting beside him.

  “Do you have a minute?” My voice pierced the silence.

  Edward didn’t flinch, his eyes never leaving the page. “I’ve got one.” There was a coolness in his words, a sharpness to them.

  “They were right,” I muttered. “You are moody.”

  He flipped to the next page. “I’m moody because all they want to do is play pool, drink their livers into failure, and throw nonstop parties. I’ve got other things on my mind.”

  I dared to take a few steps closer, peeking to see what he was reading. It looked old—as in the pages would crumble if they were touched wrong. “Like history?”

  He motioned at the stack beside him. “You have to study the past to create the future.”

  “That sounds quite noble.”

  “It’s my dad who says that, so yeah.” The high-back chair creaked when he shifted. There was a cup of tea in front of him, but it looked like it had been sitting there for hours, not so much as a sip missing.

  “Reached any new conclusions in the going-into-the-family-business topic?” I asked.

  “Why?” His head lifted from his book for a moment, but he didn’t spare a glimpse my way before getting back to it. “Have you reached any new conclusions in the what-you’re-going-to-do-with-your-life topic?”

  “So moody.” I didn’t mutter this time.

  “It’s my psyche’s default when it senses trouble.” Shoving the book aside, he finally acknowledged me with his eyes. They looked tired, the typical sparkling blue appearing almost dull. “You came here for a reason. What can I do for you, Charlotte?”

  My hands clasped behind my back, fingers fidgeting. “I know there’s a better way to say this, but I never mastered the art of—”

  “Bullshit.” The word flowed from his tongue with such ease, he could have been a seasoned sailor. “When people don’t just come right out and say what they mean, it’s referred to as bullshitting. That you are not versed in that art is one of the things I like about you.”

  When I felt my lips turn up, I cleared my throat. This was no time for schoolgirl overreactions to a boy vocalizing what he liked about her.

  I looked him square in the eye. “Why are you avoiding me?”

  He gave no physical reaction to my blunt question. “What makes you think I’ve been avoiding you?”

  My eyebrows lifted. “Because you have been. Other than this, the one time I’ve seen you in a week is the flash I caught before you ducked out the side door the other morning.”

  His gaze dropped, lingering on where my skirt hung just above my knees. He reached for the book at the top of the pile, looking away. “I’ve had a lot on my mind. It wasn’t my intent to hurt you in so doing. I’m sorry if I did.”

  I nodded. “Forgiven.”

  “That was quick. And easy.” He flipped the book open to the first page.

  “I’m also quick to forgive. You know, if you’re looking for things to add to the list of traits you like about me.”

  The stirrings of a smile twitched across his mouth. “Noted.”

  There was a minute or two of silence after that. He pretended to read while I stood there, reminding myself I wasn’t a bullshitter, as Edward had put it, and to just come out and ask.

  Edward twisted in his seat. “Was that it?”

  “Actually, no.” My tongue worked into my cheek, stalling for one last moment. “I was wondering how you felt about that little agreement we came to last week. I wasn’t sure if you’d changed your mind.”

  The skin between his brows lined. “I thought we took care of that last week in the pool room.”

  I blinked at the back of his head. “We kissed for three minutes and you thought that was all the practice I needed?”

  He pulled at the collar of his dress shirt, eventually unfastening the top button. “Speaking as the person who was on the other side of that kiss, you didn’t seem to need any more practice.”

  “It takes a blacksmith ten years of specialized training to be deemed a master of his or her craft. Ten years. That’s more than twenty-thousand hours of training to be good at pounding metal over a fire.” I fixed my arms at my sides when I realized how animated they were getting. “Pretty sure it takes more than three minutes to master the art of kissing.”

  Edward was still fighting his smile but beginning to lose the battle. “Well, the three minutes you spent with me and however many more you’ve spent liplocked with other specimens.”

  My shoulders drooped. “Which totals a whopping fifteen minutes. If I’m being generous.”

  I might not have intended to say the last part out loud, but it was the one line that managed to get Edward out of his chair and facing me. “Fine. If you’re convinced you need more practice, I’ll be your victim.” He held out his arms before crossing them, leaning into the table as he studied me in a familiar way. “But what makes you think Theo Hamilton is worthy of all of this? All of you?”

  My throat moved. “That’s what I’m hoping to find out.”

  His head cocked to the side. “You’re rather smitten with him, aren’t you?”

  “I don’t do smitten.” My head shook. “But I am intrigued by him.”

  Edward continued to watch me, the journey his eyes took feeling nearly as intimate as his hands had when they touched me last week. “I hope you find him worthy of your intrigue then.” Edward nodded, turning back to his books. “Just let me know when you want to continue our kissing experiment and I’ll pencil it in.”

  My feet rushed forward a few steps. “How about now?”

  I didn’t imagine the way his shoulders tensed or his hands balled into fists. “I’m busy.” Or the way his voice had changed, sharp and distant once again.

  What was the cause of these reactions?

  Anger?

  Apprehension?

  Annoyance?

  Whatever was responsible, he wasn’t ordering me away, and that was enough for me.

  I flattened my hand on the book he was reaching for, causing his palm to settle over my hand. “The books aren’t going anywhere.”

  The corners of his eyes creased as he stared at his hand covering mine. “You’re right.”

  His hand fell away, only to shove the stack aside, along with the other books he’d been reading. Without warning, he positioned himself in front of me, stepping into me until I could feel the edge of the table brushing against the backs of my thighs. My body trembled in anticipation, my lips parting of their own free will.

  His gaze dropped to my mouth, the heaviness in his eyes dissipating as he watched the uneven breaths flow in and out of my lips. He wasn’t saying anything. He wasn’t touching me. But I’d never been so turned on in my whole life.

  “Last time, I went easy on you. I held back.” Something flashed in his eyes as one corner of his mouth quirked. “This time I won’t.”

  My fingers curled around the ledge of the table. “That was holding back?”

  He nodded, pressing closer. “My whole life, I’m required to exhibit a precise level of restraint in all that I do. I refuse to show restraint when I’m with a woman.”

  The scent of him rolled over me, as intoxicating as the words he was uttering. “Good. Fine. I’m not much a fan of restraint anyway—”

  His mouth crashed into mine, unrepentant and, as promised, unrestrained. The power of it sent me falling back onto the table, but his arms were there to catch me before I fell.

  His tongue pushed past my lips, tying with mine the way his arms were meandering behind my back, dragging my body to his. My legs fell open, welcoming him closer as my hands moved from the table to his face, and neck, and hair, and everywhere in between. I couldn’t touch him enough. I couldn’t kiss him deeply enough.

 
His fingers dipped beneath my backside, getting a good grip before driving me against him as tightly as we could be bound. A small gasp burst from me when I felt the hard ridge running along his zipper. His grip strengthened before he nipped my bottom lip.

  When I flinched, I felt his smile, all crooked and diabolical, form against my lips. I returned the favor, biting the crest of his bottom lip as I ground my lap against his.

  The sound he made came from low in his chest, deep. God, that sound was my undoing. My hands left him to fumble with the buttons on my blouse, though I couldn’t get them to function properly.

  As soon as I got the first one free, Edward’s hands snapped around my wrists, stalling my efforts. His lips lingered another moment, tracing the line of my cupid’s bow with his tongue, before pulling away with a tortured and satisfied sigh.

  He leaned back, his hands loosening on my wrists once I’d stilled. Edward’s eyes stayed closed, but his breath was steady, almost regulated. He’d seemed very into the kiss, despite the fact he could have spent the last five minutes reading his beloved history books instead of making out like maniacs as we had.

  “So?” My face pinched together, bracing. “How was that?”

  He slid aside a foot, enough so our bodies were no longer aligned. I went ahead and sealed my legs together since they were still hanging open like they were some welcoming party.

  “You don’t smell like chlorine tonight.” His eyes fanned open, nothing especially telling in them either.

  “Sorry. I know it’s a real aphrodisiac, along with the goggle rings.” My shoulders slumped. “Seriously though, Edward? I ask for your input on how that kiss was, and the first thing that leapt to mind was pool chemicals?”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “How did it feel? What did you feel? What did you like? What didn’t you like?” I blinked at him.

  Edward smoothed his dark hair where I’d messed it up. “It was nice.”

  My head dropped. “Nice?”

  “Is there a different word you’d like me to use?”

  “Only about a hundred,” I grumbled before wetting my lips. The spot he’d bitten was just swollen enough to serve as a reminder of what we’d done.