Cinderella and the Geek (British Bad Boys)

by Christina Phillips

  “It’s a High Tea,” Di hisses from the side of her mouth as she and Meg lead me to one of the tables and forcibly sit me down.

  “Wow. This is so…” My words trail away and I swallow around the lump in my throat. Blitz parties are never like this. “This is so nice.”

  “Harry’s idea,” Meg says. “We all have to drink tea and eat cake. I guarantee you that coffee will also be served.”

  Harry came up with this idea? Twenty-four hours ago, I would’ve melted onto the floor at the romantic gesture, but all I want to do now is grab my things and make a run for it. Especially when he appears at the doorway and looms there, like a doomsday prophecy.

  Caleb gives a speech designed to embarrass me and then presents me with an enormous gift-wrapped present. “From all of us,” he says with a grin. “And you better keep in touch or there’ll be trouble.”

  Acutely aware that Harry’s still watching me with an ever-increasing scowl on his face, I continue to completely blank him as I unwrap the gift.

  Shock ricochets through me as the paper falls away to reveal the box. It’s a top-of-the-range laptop. “Oh, I—this is—” I gulp, lost for words, which appears to be the signal for a big group hug. “Thank you.” I sniff back my tears. “It’s just what I wanted.”

  The next hour is a flurry of drinking tea, nibbling cake, and smiling for umpteen selfies with the guys. Good job I plastered on the makeup so I won’t look too awful in the photos. From the corner of my eye, I notice Harry chain-drink coffee like it’s his superpower, but he doesn’t move further into the room, and everyone is acting as though he’s invisible.

  Obviously, news of our breakup is common knowledge, which isn’t exactly comforting, but at least no one makes any awkward comments.

  After an hour, my nerves can’t stand Harry’s silent brooding treatment any longer, and I make my excuses. Di and Meg take my car keys so they can load my new laptop while I clear my office. I steel my nerves to walk past Harry without either looking at him or breathing in his cologne.

  He follows me into my office. Did I really think he wouldn’t?

  “About last night.” Typical Harry. Straight to the point. Except what is his bloody point? I don’t want to rehash last night, thanks very much.

  I retrieve the cardboard box I left under my desk yesterday, pull open my drawer, and begin to transfer my stuff. “There’s nothing more to discuss.”

  It might not be possible, but the air crackles between us. “Where were you this morning?”

  Talk about changing the subject. I relax my death grip on my stationery case and drop it into the box before I deign to look at him.

  Big mistake. Shouldn’t have looked at him. It’s too easy to forget how badly he hurt me, when his blue eyes remind me of everything we shared over the last month.

  Lying eyes. Except he never lied to me. And I never expected forever. I just didn’t expect him to crush me like none of it meant anything.

  It’s my own fault. Men always leave you.

  “If it makes you feel better, deduct the hours from my final pay check.”

  His jaw clenches. Struck a nerve there. He knows damn well I’ve put in countless hours of unpaid overtime, not that I ever minded, considering how generous my salary was.

  “I don’t care about the fucking hours.”

  “Good. That makes two of us.” I fling the rest of my stuff into the box and heft it into my arms. “Good-bye, Harry.”

  “What? You’re just going to walk out of here?” He sounds incredulous, but that’s just my imagination. Last night he couldn’t wait to get rid of me.

  “Since teleportation isn’t an option, then yes. I’m walking out of here.”

  “You’re unbelievable.”

  He sounds so disgusted that I forget about being cool and distant and not rising to the bait. I round on him, and I’m so freaking mad that it’s a good job the box is between us like a cardboard shield, because I totally want to rip off his face.

  “You should try looking in a mirror sometime.”

  “Don’t try to twist this onto me. You’re the one walking out.”

  Can he even hear himself? “That’s right, Harry. I’m moving to Durham tomorrow, and you’ll never have to see me again.”

  “A month too bloody late.” Bitterness throbs in every word, and the force of his meaning punches me in the chest, knocking the air from my lungs.

  So now he regrets that we ever got together. It’s crazy and doesn’t make sense, and I’ve no idea how we got to this point, but I’m not hanging around to let him grind me even further into the ground.

  “Why don’t you say what you really mean?” I’m backed up against the door frame, and even though it’s obvious our conversation has been overheard by half the workforce of Blitz, right now I don’t even care. “I was never good enough for you, was I? Just a distraction. That’s all.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m over being distracted. I should never have left Exitium. At least there I know the rules.”

  “That’s right. Nothing’s more important than your work, but I always knew that. That’s fine.”

  Stop wittering on.

  I have the scary certainty that if my mouth stops, my tears will start. Hastily I turn my back on him and avoid eye contact with everyone who’s standing outside, who’re making no attempt to pretend they weren’t eavesdropping.

  I chuck the box onto the passenger seat in my car, and for the last time ever I leave Blitz.

  And Harry.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Harry

  On Monday night I’m at Dad’s, initiating him into The Plains of Exitium. Into the world of RPG, period. Any other time this would be cool, as I’ve always wanted him to show an interest, but ever since Alice stalked out of Blitz I haven’t been able to concentrate on any bloody thing. But I couldn’t turn Dad down when he asked me to come around tonight.

  Mac strolls into the living room and curls up on her favorite chair, cups her chin on her hand, and watches the game with a brooding expression on her face. What’s eating her? She’s back to university tomorrow, and another round of endless partying.

  “Huh.” Dad drops the console onto the couch between us, pushes his glasses on top of his head, and grins at me. “That’s quite some world you’ve created there. I can see where the addiction lies.”

  “Thanks.” I’m not used to such praise from Dad and am not sure how to handle it.

  “Right then.” He stands up. “I’ll put the coffee on. Mackenzie, do you want a peppermint tea?”

  “Yes, please.” She gives him a tired smile that he doesn’t appear to notice. As soon as he’s left the room, I frown at her.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Sure.” She flashes me her usual smile, and I slouch back on the couch. Guess I was projecting my own black mood onto her. “What about you?”

  “I’m great.” Even I can hear the sarcasm in my voice, but there’s nothing I can do about that now.

  “Really?” Skepticism drips from the word. “I heard you and Alice had a huge fight on Friday.”

  I should’ve known Mac would get to hear about that. She’s good friends with several of the guys at Blitz. “I need to upgrade the confidentiality agreements. Bloody place leaks like a sieve.”

  “Don’t be such a twat. That’s bollocks and you know it.”

  It is, and I do, and I don’t appreciate my sister pointing it out to me. Seems I can’t even think straight lately.

  “Alice and I are finished.” Even though I’ve been telling myself that all weekend, it’s the first time I’ve said it out loud and it damn well chokes me. How could she just walk out like that?

  “But you were so cute together.”

  “Give me a fucking break.”

  “But what happened? Everyone could see how right you were for each other on Thursday night. Even Dad said afterward how nice Alice is.”

  For a second that floors me, especially since Dad hasn’t said anything to me about
Alice. “Doesn’t matter. She’s the one who ended it, not me.”

  Mac’s brow crinkles as though she doesn’t believe me. “Why would she do that? What did you say to her?”

  Yeah great, blame it on me. “Nothing. Why the hell would I care if she and Lucas exchange phone numbers?” Shit. I didn’t mean to say that. I don’t want anyone knowing about that. And this is why it’s so much easier living in an online world. There’s a delete button for when you fuck up.

  “I don’t know. Why would you care that Lucas is getting her mum a couple of tickets for Duke’s Christmas concert?”

  Her comment clangs inside my brain, and acid burns my gut. “What?”

  “Yes, Mr. Clueless Brainbox, that’s the reason he took her number. So he can let her know when he’s managed to score the tickets. You didn’t really think he was trying anything on with her, did you?”

  Heat sears me.

  “No.” Not deep down. I wouldn’t believe that of either of them, but what the fuck was I supposed to think?

  “Really? So, if you didn’t accuse her of anything, then why did she break up with you?”

  “I don’t know.” I grind the words between my teeth. “I just asked her where she’d been that morning. She never takes time off work. It’s like she was trying to avoid me after she met everyone the night before—” I don’t get the chance to finish my rambling, as Mac sucks in a dramatic breath.

  “You actually insinuated that she’d spent the night with Lucas? I would’ve thrown your bloody laptop at your head if I was her.”

  “I didn’t say that.” I glower at Mac, who glares right back. “Stop twisting my words.”

  “All right. So you asked her in a nice, civilized manner why she hadn’t turned up to work on her very last morning? Lucas’s name wasn’t mentioned at all?”

  “No.” Uncertainty rocks me. “I can’t remember. But she wanted to end things the night before in the car, on the way home. On Friday, I just wanted to sort shit out with her.”

  Mac narrows her eyes. “When you left here on Thursday you looked mean as hell. I thought it was because of Archimedes but it wasn’t, was it? You were having a tantrum because Alice said two words to Lucas.”

  I don’t even know where to start with her statement. “A tantrum?” I can barely articulate the word I’m so pissed with her. “Just so you know, I don’t care if she and Lucas speak to each other.”

  “So why did we have to keep it a big secret from him that you were dating her?”

  I want to refute her accusation but can’t. Because I didn’t tell Lucas, and by silent agreement neither did Mac. And the reason is a bloody great elephant standing in the room between us. “It doesn’t fucking matter.”

  “You think? Look, I know how badly Clare hurt you. But you have to let it go. Not every girl is like her.”

  “Give it a rest, Mac.” I know Alice is nothing like Clare. So why did I instantly think there was something underhand going on when Alice and Lucas exchanged numbers?

  Why didn’t I ask her in the car what was going on instead of, well shit, instead of having a fucking tantrum?

  Why did I push Alice away?

  …

  Alice

  It takes all day to reach the historic city of Durham. Mum and I shared the driving, but instead of it being a journey filled with anticipation and excitement, my head throbs and eyes ache.

  I’ll never admit it, especially after our talk the other morning, but maybe Mum had a point when she kept telling me there was plenty of time for guys once I got my degree.

  If I’d stayed away from Harry, at least I wouldn’t feel like death warmed up right now. Except there’ll always be a part of me that won’t regret our month together. We did have fun. Even if it all went to hell at the end.

  The magnificent medieval cathedral—built in the late eleventh century to house the bodies of St. Cuthbert and the Venerable Bede—and Durham Castle, constructed under the orders of William the Conqueror and now part of the university, are silhouetted above the city. Any other time I’d be awestruck by their imposing beauty, but all they do now is remind me of my insignificance in the great scheme of things.

  Give it a rest, Alice. If I don’t at least pretend to cheer up, Mum’ll probably insist on staying the night with me. Not a great look for the first day of the rest of my life.

  My room in the student accommodation is just a few minutes’ walk from the Castle, and Mum helps unload all my things from the car. Buried under my bedding is a box with the individual gifts some of the guys gave me from work, which Di and Meg smuggled into my car yesterday while I was having my grand finale with Harry.

  Right in the center of the gifts is the shoebox-sized one from Harry that I haven’t yet opened. That I have no intention of opening and definitely didn’t pack to bring with me.

  “I squeezed it in,” Mum says, unnecessarily. “You might change your mind in a few days.”

  I won’t, but decide it’s not worth making a big deal out of it, so push it under my bed and set up my new laptop on the desk in the small study area.

  With my duvet on the bed, books on the bookshelf, and photos scattered about—none of Harry, though—the room starts to feel a bit more personal. Mum heaves a sigh and gives me a hug. “Are you sure you don’t want to come out and eat with us tonight?”

  Brian took the train up from Kent and should arrive at the local station in about twenty minutes, and he and Mum are staying the night in a local hotel. Now I’m over the shock, they are kind of adorable together. Strange how things turn out.

  “No, I’m fine. I’ll meet you both for an early lunch tomorrow like we planned.” But for now, I’m going to check out the student dining hall.

  …

  Freshers week is a whirl of white T-shirt parties, pub crawls, and cocktail parties—actually any excuse for a party. A month ago, I would’ve hung out at a couple of them, just for the hell of it. It’s not like I’d spend the whole year doing it, but when the music’s loud, the drink is flowing, and everyone’s on an adrenaline high, it’s too hard to fake it when my heart’s breaking.

  Luckily, I’ve met a few other Freshers who’d rather watch a movie than hit a local nightclub, and yesterday we discovered a gorgeous teashop down a quiet alley near the marketplace. I couldn’t help thinking, Do you sell coffee? Not that it matters. I’ll never come here with Harry.

  After breakfast on Tuesday I’m in my room, studying a campus map in the hope I don’t get horribly lost when classes start, but my mind keeps wandering. Today is when Harry and Caleb have their golfing social with Oscar Jarrod.

  Not thinking about it. I concentrate on the map. Oscar was due to arrive in England yesterday morning, so it’s possible the three of them have already met, even though the first official meet is today.

  I’m not supposed to be thinking about it.

  My stomach churns. Even though a part of me hates Harry, I hope he pulls this deal off. There’s no reason why he won’t. Oscar Jarrod was practically drooling with all the publicity Harry and I unintentionally garnered for Blitz, and in his world PR rules.

  In Oscar Jarrod’s world. Not Harry’s. He never wanted our kiss or our day at Shore Park made public, and a sliver of guilt eats through me as I remember the thinly veiled accusation I threw at him.

  He deserved it. Too right, he did, after the way he dumped me.

  Silence echoes through my mind, and doubt invades.

  What am I thinking? He did dump me, and in a really horrible way, too.

  Did he, though?

  Eerie shivers race over my arms. Okay, so he didn’t say we’re finished in so many words, but that’s what he meant when I suggested we keep in touch.

  Wasn’t it?

  I twist around on my chair and focus on the present he got me, which is still under the bed.

  If, in his head, he’d already ended things with me, why was he so shocked that I walked out on him at Blitz? It doesn’t make any sense.

  You’re the
one walking out.

  And he wasn’t talking about me leaving to go to university.

  I always knew this had an expiry date.

  The disbelief on his face slams into my mind, and I wind my arms around my waist and rock on the chair. Oh, fuck. I might’ve always assumed that, but did he?

  Even Mum said she hoped I didn’t break up with him just because I was going to university. It didn’t strike me at the time, not with all the stuff she told me about my dad, but the truth is—I always assumed we’d break up before I left home. It was just one of those things in my head that I didn’t question because…well, because I never thought this thing between us could be anything more than a brief fling.

  I slide onto the floor on my knees and pull his gift-wrapped present from under the bed. There’s no card, just “To Alice” scrawled on the wrapping paper, but I’d know Harry’s handwriting anywhere.

  I rip off the paper and let out a low gasp. The box displays a picture of a bone china one-cup teapot, patterned with cute kittens. There’s a matching gift card, and with shaky fingers I open it.

  To Beauty, from your Geek

  A hoarse laugh flays my throat as a warm, melty sensation pools in the pit of my stomach. I’m not convinced this was Steele’s interpretation when they splashed our kiss across the internet, but it doesn’t matter, because it’s Harry’s.

  My brief burst of joy fades as our parting words drill through my head. I told Mum there was no going back, and I have the awful feeling that’s true. I blink the blur from my eyes and read the rest of his message.

  Think of me when you drink your tea! Missing you already. See you in a couple of weeks. H XX

  The words burn into my retinas. See you in a couple of weeks.

  He didn’t want to break up with me. He wanted—expected—us to keep seeing each other. It was me jumping to all the wrong conclusions that split us up.

  I let out a strangled groan and bury my face in my hands. What’s the matter with me? Harry never gave any indication that we had an expiry date.

  “Fuck, shit, bugger.” I grip my hair, but it doesn’t help. For years at high school, I shared classes with girls who were superficially nice to me, but there was always the underlying current of you’re not in the same league as us. Not wealthy enough. Not pretty enough. Just not quite good enough.